


Angels

by iansmickey



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iansmickey/pseuds/iansmickey
Summary: "Mickey?" He asked hesitantly.Mickey looked at him, waiting.Ian took a shaky breath, "Do you believe in angels?"He seemed confused by his question, but considered it."No," he finally said, "Not anymore."





	Angels

Jenna Smith had been in this seat many times.

The small bus was commonly used for transferring, and she'd sat beside many different children while on it.

And still, she'd never seen anything like the little boy that sat beside her now.

Ian Gallagher.

His case was still new, but wasn't expected to be open long.

The mother and her boyfriend, who happened to be the children's uncle, were already behind bars.

And with good reason.

They'd killed one child, and had nearly succeeded with the second.

The report had also mentioned documented molestation and previously broken bones.

Bruises still covered the boy's skin, as did a few lighter scars, but the emotional damage would be the hardest to heal.

Though, if any place could do it, it was the Second Chance Refuge for Abused and Abandoned Children.

Time after time, Jenna has seen miracles worked at the refuge.

The sense of love and home, combined with all the different therapies available, worked well for nearly every child who stepped through.

The frightened and hurting could find a way to live again, and that's all that mattered.

And these children were so strong and deserved to find happiness.

Especially this little boy.

Jenna looked down at Ian, who was staring out the bus window with wide eyes.

This little nine year old had worked up the courage to call a hotline from a number he'd found in a newspaper.

Jenna had been in the room when the call came in.

She remembered the broken look on the operator's face as she spoke to the boy.

Ian had hung up before they could get a trace, but they did get the number and was able to track it down.

And not a second too soon.

The report stated that the police had shown up to find little Ian in a broken hump, bruises covering his skin.

There was obvious signs of malnourishment and previous abuse, but what has shocked them the most was that Ian had been clinging to the body of a little boy, later discovered to be Carl Gallagher, Ian's little brother, who unfortunately, didn't survive the abuse that night.

Jenna tried to shake off the horrific images, as the bus pulled into the long drive of the refuge village.

She could see the wonder in Ian's eyes, but also the fear.

Slowly, she reached out a hand to the boy.

Ian stared at it for a second, then hesitantly grasped it, allowing Jenna to lead him from the seat.

She thanked the driver, as she and Ian exited the bus, and came to stand in front of the spacious building, that was the main office.

A tall fence circled the property, leaving the only entrance to the grounds, through the office.

For the safety of the children, of course.

"What do you think?" Jenna asked, trying to sound cheery.

Ian looked up at the building, and shrugged.

Jenna smiled, "I've been here lots of times. It's really fun, and is full of really nice people."

Ian still stared up at it.

With a sad smile, Jenna squatted down, to be eye level with the boy.

"Ian... I know you're scared. But you'll be safe here. I promise. We only want to help."

He nodded slowly, before asking, "When do I have to go back?"

His voice was small, fragile.

Jenna smiled kindly, "You don't ever have to go back, Ian."

Relief was evident on his face, and Jenna took his hand again, "Come on, let's go check it out, what do you say?"

His nod was a little more relaxed this time, and Jenna was able to lead him into the double doors of Second Chance.

Ian took a deep breath, clinging to the stuffed teddy bear in his arms, a few hours after his arrival.

Miss. Smith had just opened the door to, what would be, his new room.

There were three beds, each in a corner, with dressers and a nightstand.

A banner hung on the wall, above what he assumed was his bed, next to the window, that read "Welcome home, Ian!"

He blinked away threatening tears... home?

"You'll share this room with two other boys," Miss. Smith was saying, "Ben and Luke. They are about the same age as you, and can help you with anything you need."

She motioned to the bed, "That's your bed. If you need more sheets or blankets, let me know, and I can get them. There are a few outfits in these drawers, for you, but you'll be able to pick out your own later."

Ian nodded, trying to take it all in.

"Would you like to sit your teddy down, here?" Miss. Smith asked, patting the bed.

Ian shook his head.

His blue teddy had been the last present he'd gotten from his father, before he had left, and there was no way he could be without it right now.

"I want him with me," he confirmed, hoping Miss. Smith wouldn't mind.

She only smiled, "If that's what you want."

Ian nodded.

"Alright then," Miss. Smith allowed, "Why don't we go see the rest of the village then? Mr. Teddy can come with us."

Ian smiled slightly.

Miss. Smith was really nice.

They walked down to the art center, where Ian saw paintings that other kids had done, and felt his excitement grow. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Then they visited the dining hall, and the animal farm, then even the therapy rooms and playground.

Other children were all around them, at each destination, and Ian began to feel sad.

He wondered if each of these children had bad mommies too.

Or mommy's boyfriends.

He shuddered, trying not to remember his Uncle Jerry.

"Ian," Miss. Smith addressed, "Did you hear me, sweetie?"

Ian looked up at her, "Sorry..."

"It's okay. I just wondered if you wanted to go to the dining hall, or if you wanted to go back to your room and settle in?"

Ian considered that.

Did he really want to be around a bunch of other children right now?

No, not really.

"Can I go to the room, please?"

Miss. Smith nodded, "Of course."

It only took them a few minutes to get back to the dormitory building, and finding the room was even easier.

Only this time, when the door opened, both of his roommates were present.

"Miss. Smith!" One of the boys, a small blond, greeted, rushing over to hug the woman.

"Ben," Miss. Smith grinned, "How are you?"

"Great," Ben enthused, "I got to sign up for the play, at school, today!"

"That's awesome!" Miss. Smith told him, "I'm sure you'll do great."

Ben nodded, "Is this our new roommate?"

Ian blushed, as the blond's gaze turned on him.

Miss. Smith rubbed his back encouragingly, "Yes. This is Ian. He just got in today. Ian, this is Ben, and that over there, is Luke."

Ben smiled and waved at him, but Luke hardly acknowledged that they'd been introduced.

Ben seemed to notice this, "Don't mind him, Ian. He's just upset that his grandma didn't visit today."

"Blabber-mouth," Luke accused, and Ben stuck his tongue out.

"You boys, play nice," Miss. Smith reminded them, before looking down at Ian.

"Okay, sweetie, I need to go fill out some paperwork. You can go to the dining hall if you get hungry. Ben can help you, if you have questions."

Ian nodded, "Okay."

"Alright," Miss. Smith sighed, "I'll be back tomorrow morning. We'll check in then, okay?"

Again, Ian nodded.

Miss. Smith smiled, "Good. Alright, see you boys tomorrow."

And she was gone.

Ian squeezed his teddy tightly, before turning to his bed.

Everything felt like it had been spinning since this whole thing had started, and he just wanted to sit and breathe for a moment.

Unfortunately, Ben was already talking.

"It really is fun here. We get to paint and play with the animals, and go to school and play and-"

"When is bedtime?" Ian asked quietly, but made sure Ben heard him.

"Nine-thirty," the other boy, Luke, answered, "But it's ten on weekends."

Ian nodded and Ben moved to sit on the bottom of his bed.

"So why did you get brought here? Is it because of your bruises? How did you get them? I had bruises too, but they're all gone. My dad gave them to me. But he's in jail now. Are your parents in jail?"

Ian couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

It was just too much.

He didn't even really know where he was, or how long he had to be here, or if he'd ever see his mom again, and what if he did? And what if he didn't? What if Uncle Jerry killed her, like he killed-

He fell to his mattress, tears shaking his tiny shoulders, and Ben had stopped talking.

Ian had a feeling that both of his roommates were giving him weird looks, but he couldn't help it.

It hurt so much.

He slowly became aware of a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Luke there.

The dark boy smiled softly, and whispered, "It'll be better tomorrow."

Ian wasn't sure that was true, but it was hope, and right now, that's exactly what he needed.

-

Jenna flipped through the stack of paper work on her desk.

She knew she should have just joined the rest of the staff in the dining hall, for lunch, but she couldn't take a break right now.

Not with so much on her mind.

Ian Gallagher, the newest addition to her group, had yet to make progress.

As with most children, it takes time to adjust, but after weeks, Ian still carried the same look.

Scared, hurt, broken, and sad.

And Jenna didn't know how to get through to him.

They'd tried art, animals, talking, games, space... nothing helped.

It's like the boy was a shell, and Jenna was afraid that even Second Chance wouldn't be enough... that Ian might need a trauma specialist, not just a counselor.

But she still had to try.

She knew that much.

Because the boy was so tiny and sweet, Jenna refused to believe that he was lost to them.

She'd figure out how to get through, and reminded herself that she had to work at Ian's pace.

Children, especially those who've suffered as much as the ones here, couldn't be rushed.

They'd talk when they were ready.

A light knock at her door jolted her from her thoughts, and she looked up, to see Michael Clark entering.

He also worked as a counselor for Second Chance, though he mainly ran animal therapy and closed group sessions.

"You busy?" He asked.

Jenna shook her head, "Nope, just me and my thoughts. What's up?"

He smiled, taking a seat in the chair opposite her desk, "Just making sure we were still on schedule for this afternoon."

Jenna nodded, "Outer group sessions, yes. I have it written down."

"Great," he leaned forward, "How are your kids doing?"

"They're getting through," she offered, "Some faster than others, of course, but at least they all have a chance to heal."

Michael chuckled, "I heard our little Ben is doing especially well."

Jenna nodded, "It's hard to believe he's that same broken little boy that came to us two years ago."

Michael sighed, "Just goes to prove that this place can work miracles."

"We've seen our fair share," Jenna admitted.

"I wish I could see one more though," Michael noted.

Jenna's brow raised, "You mean Mickey, don't you?"

Michael nodded, "I know we aren't supposed to get personally involved, but I can't help it. Something about the boy gets to me. He's been here a year, and I don't feel like I know anymore about him, then I did when he first arrived. I know his history from the records obviously, but the scar... I keep feeling like there's something else. And only Mickey knows what it is."

"Is he still causing trouble?" Jenna asked, genuinely curious.

"More than any other eleven years old I've ever seen. He's still fighting at school, spitting on the rules, and practically doing whatever he wants. I'm afraid that he'll have to be transferred if I can't reach him somehow."

Jenna sighed, "I fear the same thing, in each of my kids. I'm always worried that there will be one that comes to damaged to heal, and that nothing will be good enough to help them."

"You haven't lost one yet," he encouraged her.

She nodded, "But in the past four years that I've worked here, I haven't met a child who didn't respond to some form of treatment. Hell, most of them respond to warm food and a safe environment. I'm not sure I'd know what to do if they didn't."

Something about her look must have clued him in.

"Are you having that problem now?"

Jenna shrugged, "I got this new little boy a couple weeks ago, Ian Gallagher, and I can't stop thinking about him."

Michael nodded, "I've had him out with the animals a few times... What's his story?"

Jenna picked up Ian's file, and handed it to him, "Dad ran out on them a few years ago, after divorcing his mother, no contact since. Abused by his uncle, father's brother, who also happens to be the mother's boyfriend. Incorrectly healed bones, malnourishment, reports of scar tissue, molestation, burn marks, bruises... you name it."

Michael was shaking his head, "This boy did not have an easy start."

"It gets worse," Jenna reached over, flipping the page of the report, "He called the hotline himself, while his uncle was distracted with his little brother. By the time the police showed up, it was too late for him, and Ian was a broken mess. Both his uncle and mother were put in jail, and no one was able to track down his biological father. He literally has no one now."

Michael reached out, grabbing her hand, "He's safe now, Jenna. And he has all of us."

Jenna smiled sadly, "Let's just hope that's enough."

Ian was surprised by how quickly time was passing.

He had finally stopped feeling like he was waiting for something and had instead, focused on being productive with his time.

He'd gotten good at painting, and he liked the the horses, and he especially liked Molly, the scarred, black border collie that ran around the village.

The animal counselor, Michael, had told him that Molly had been rescued from abusive owners a few years ago, and had come to live on the refuge so that she'd always get lots of love.

That made Ian happy.

He'd never had a dog before, and though Molly's scars made her seem gruff, they comforted Ian.

He'd look at Molly, and knew she understood.

He'd also began to feel more comfortable with Ben and Luke, though Ben still talked a lot, and asked questions that he didn't always want to answer.

Like what the nightmares were about.

Ian had been having them since he'd arrived.

Vivid memories, overlaid with the fear that Uncle Jerry was going to find him somehow, then the worst one, where Carl begs him to help him.

Many nights, he'd wake up to Ben, or Luke's hand on him, shaking him.

Ben would smile sadly and give him more blankets, while Luke always said the same thing, "It'll be better tomorrow."

Ian didn't really understand that, seeing how it never seemed to get better, but he prayed that it would eventually, and always managed to find sleep again.

Now, he stood in line, with Ben, Luke, and some other kids, as they followed Miss. Smith into the therapy room.

He'd had to go in there a few times, though always alone, to talk to Miss. Smith, but he never knew what to say.

He had a feeling that everything they wanted him to talk about, was the stuff he'd rather forget.

So he chose to remain silent, and drew pictures with the crayons they gave him.

He wasn't sure why they were all going into the room, but Ben had told him it was a group talk.

Jenna and Michael brought all the kids they had therapy with into one room, and everyone talked and played games.

"But you don't have to," Luke had assured him, "You can just sit there, if you want."

This had made Ian feel a tiny bit better, but the room full of chairs still intimidated him as they walked in.

"Take a seat anywhere you like," Miss. Smith told them, "The second group will be here with Mr. Clark soon."

Ian sat next to Ben, as the other kids scattered about the circle of chairs, all finding preferable seats, just before the door reopened, and the other group came in.

Michael was with them, which made Ian relax a little more, but his stomach still felt knotted, as he didn't know what to expect.

He jumped as one of the boys slumped into the chair next to him, and gave him a daring look.

He swallowed.

The first thing he noticed was the anger in his eyes.

Hard and cold, the color of blue ice.

He shivered under his stare.

It took him an entire second to notice the scar, though it should have been his dominating feature.

It cut from just above his right eye, down his cheek, curving slightly where it ended.

He blinked, forcing himself to look straight ahead.

Staring was rude, after all, and he would guess that each person in this room had their fair share of scars.

He focused instead on what Michael was saying to them, unaware that those blue eyes had lingered on his face, confused.

Jenna was glad that Michael had taken the lead this time.

The children were being extra rambunctious, and while it was nice to see the life back in their eyes, she was running on little sleep, and less food.

Of course, she had a good reason.

She looked over at Ian.

The boy was listening patiently as Ben rambled on about something, but what caught her attention was that Mickey Milkovich was sitting next to him.

And he was looking at him. curiously.

On an average day, this wouldn't have meant much, but it was Mickey, and the boy hadn't shown interest in anything or anybody in the year he'd been at Second Chance.

She kept a trained eye on the two, as Michael moved on to his next topic

Ian liked Michael's "class" but he was glad when it was finally over and they were allowed to leave for free time.

He decided to go to dinner early, and hoped they were having baked chicken again. He had been surprised to find how much he liked it, and was even more happy when the lady at the counter gave him seconds.

He hurried to the dining hall, too hungry to wait for Ben and Luke.

There were only a few people sitting at the tables, but from what he could tell, the meal of the evening was pizza.

He was okay with that, too.

It took less than ten minutes to get his tray and drink, and soon he was sitting down at the end of the back table, staring out the glass wall, at the other kids running around the village, enjoying free time, before it began darkening.

He ate as he watched them, wondering if he'd ever be able to play like that, without thinking of Carl.

A tray slamming down next to him broke his concentration.

He looked up, surprised to see the same dark haired boy from Michael's session sitting down next to him.

He opened his mouth to ask him why he'd chosen to sit by him, when there were clearly so many other seats, but Mickey spoke first, turning to face him.

"You're new here."

Ian blinked, confused by this statement. He said it, not as a question, but as a fact.

Ian nodded, "I'm Ian."

Mickey seemed to observe him, the scar on his face tightening as his eyebrows furrowed, "I didn't ask you what your name was."

Ian's mouth opened, then closed again.

This boy was confusing.

"You didn't ask me anything," he noted.

Mickey cocked his head, "You didn't ask about it."

Now Ian's brows creased, "I didn't ask about what?"

"About my scar," he said, as though it were a simple explanation.

Ian wasn't sure what he was getting at as he eyed his torn skin.

"Was I supposed to?"

Mickey looked at him blankly, before a light smile came across his tight lip, "You're the first new kid that hasn't."

Ian wasn't sure if this was a good thing, and she didn't want to seem rude, "I'm sorry?"

Mickey's eyes weren't so cold this time, "Why didn't you? Ask about it?"

He thought about his question, wondering why it wasn't obvious.

Looking at Mickey's scar, he pursed his lips, "I have scars too."

He took another bite of his pizza, looking back to the window.

The blue eyed boy cleared his throat, "Mickey."

Ian glanced at him, "What?"

"My name," he explained, "It's Mickey."

-

Ian wasn't sure why Mickey stayed, but he was glad.

He didn't press him for conversation, or try to engage him.

He just sat next to him, and for the strangest reason, he felt like talking.

So he did.

"How long have you been here?"

Mickey answered without looking at him, "About a year."

Ian smiled a little, "So they don't make us leave?"

Mickey looked at him now, "You say that like you want to stay."

Ian blushed, "Don't you?"

"No," he stated.

The redhead placed his elbow on the table, pushing away his now empty tray, "Why not?"

"Does it matter?" Mickey asked, clearly uncomfortable.

Ian bit his lip.

He knew what it was like to be bombarded with questions, and he didn't want to do the same to Mickey.

"I'm sorry."

He sighed, "It's okay... I'd just rather not be here."

Ian looked at him, "Well I like it here. Miss. Smith is nice, and so is Michael and the other counselors. And my roommate aren't mean, and the food is really good."

Mickey didn't argue.

Ian tried to imagine why he wouldn't want to stay.

"Do you miss your family?"

Mickey's eyes darkened again, and he was afraid he made him mad.

But all he said was, "Nothing to miss."

Ian looked back to the glass window, and noticed that the room was getting more full as the others came in for dinner.

"I miss my brother," he admitted quietly.

But Mickey heard him, "Did he get sent to a different village?"

Ian shook his head, "No...he...h-he's..."

He couldn't make his lips form the words, as it quivered against the tears that roared each time he remembered that Carl was dead.

Flashes passed through his head, like a nightmare on replay.

It was late, and dark, he was sleeping.

But then he heard it.

A sound he was so intuned with, the smallest hint of it had him on alert.

His uncle's drunken voice, arguing with his mother down stairs, something about money.

Ian clutched his teddy bear, praying they would just go to bed.

But then his mother screamed, "Jerry, please! Not now, please wait until morning, he's asleep! Jerry!"

Ian now understood why they were arguing this time.

Carl had been coloring, and the marker had leaked through the page, onto the table. He was too little to know it was permanent.

Mommy had scrubbed the table, trying to get it off, but nothing worked.

And now Carl was in trouble.

Ian glanced across the room, where Carl was asleep in his bed.

Uncle Jerry sounded so mad... And now he was coming to their room.

With a deep breath, he got up, and ran over to Carl's bed.

Carl stirred some, as he climbed up next to him.

His uncle's footsteps were louder now, he was up the stairs.

A moment later, the door burst open.

"Carl!" Uncle Jerry's voice vibrated the room.

Ian felt Carl jolt behind him, immediately responding.

"Come here!" Their uncle demanded, "Don't make me drag you out of that bed!"

Carl was shaking now, and Ian reached back, forcing Carl's body behind his own.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Jerry demanded, seeing his movement, "Get in your bed, Ian! This is between me and Catl!"

He stalked over, and grabbed for Carl's arm.

Ian forced his whole body back, pushing Carl against the wall, out of Jerry's reach.

"What did I fucking tell you?!" Jerry demanded, enraged, his hand wrapping around his arm, "Get. Your. Little. Ass-"

He kicked as he pulled on him, and his foot connected with his shin.

Jerry grunted, before squeezing his arm tightly, and yanking.

Ian fell to the ground in a tumbling heap.

Jerry's hand was in his hair then, using it to pull him to his feet.

He cried out as Jerry spat, "How many times must I show you what happens to bad boys who don't behave?!"

He wasn't sure what her punishment was about to be, but for the moment, Carl was forgotten for now, so it was worth it. 

"Don't cry," a voice was lulling, and Ian clung to it, letting it ease him back to the present.

Mickey was still sitting in front of him, and his face was now burning.

He lifted a hand up and felt the hot tears that lingered there.

Mickey's expression eased, and he got the impression he knew exactly what had just happened to him... where he'd gone.

"I hate it when people cry."

He didn't say this in a mean way, but Ian still flinched a little, dropping his gaze.

Mickey sighed, "I can't promise it'll stop... but it gets easier, after a while."

He swallowed, "The crying, or the memories?"

A pause, then, "Both."

Ian closed his eyes, not feeling very reassured.

He wasn't sure the memories really ever would fade.

"Mickey?" He asked hesitantly.

Mickey looked at him, waiting.

Ian took a shaky breath, "Do you believe in angels?"

He seemed confused by his question, but considered it.

"No," he finally said, "Not anymore."

-

Ian ran his fingers through Molly's fur, as he sat near the barn.

Mickey stood a few feet away, watching Michael take turns leading kids around on a horse.

Ian stared at Mickey, without being obvious, trying to understand why the other children were so afraid of him.

And why Ben warned him away from him.

The blond had finally made it to dinner and had immediately spotted Ian, still sitting with Mickey.

Ben had wasted no time in dragging him off, only later explaining that Mickey was the wrong company to keep.

When Ian questioned as to why, Ben had insisted that Mickey was dangerous, and weird.

And weird, at this place, was saying something.

However, as Ian watched Mickey now, he didn't seem weird or dangerous.

Just quiet.

And lonely, though with the way he avoided everyone, that may be by choice.

Ian looked down at the dog he was petting, "I should mind my own business, shouldn't I, Molly?"

The dog only looked at him, causing Ian to smile, "If he wanted to talk to someone, he would, right?"

Again, no answer, not that he expected it.

"Do you think Ben is right, Molly?"

He looked over at Mickey again, who was leaning against the corral post, seeming bored with the circles Michael made with the horse.

Something about him seemed sad, but not dangerous.

Ian sighed, "Nobody likes to be alone."

Molly's ears perked, and Ian giggled a little, "Okay, come on, girl. Let's go say hi."

He stood, wiping his hands of on his pants, before making his way toward Mickey.

Mickey turned as he heard him approach, and his face looked surprised.

"Ian," he greeted.

Ian smiled, trying to be friendly, "Have you ridden him yet?" He motioned at the horse.

Mickey nodded, "A few times. You?"

Ian shook his head, "Not yet... I like spending time with Molly."

Mickey looked down at the dog, who was still at Ian's side.

"I've never seen her stick by anyone, the way she does with you," he told him, his tone serious.

Ian patted Molly's head, "It's because we understand each other."

Mickey looked at him, "I guess dogs are easier to be with than people."

Ian smiled at Molly, "Sometimes. She makes a great listener."

Mickey smirked, "Helps that she can't talk back."

Ian nodded, "I guess. I was actually thinking of taking her for a walk, down by the garden station. Wanna come?"

Mickey's mouth twitched, "What about your other friend? The blond one?"

"Ben," he confirmed.

Mockey nodded, "He doesn't like me."

Ian wasn't sure what to say, but Mickey had continued, "Of course, I don't blame her. I'm a freak."

His tone made Ian's chest hurt, "No, you aren't."

Mickey's eyes met Ian's, "So your friend didn't tell you to stay away from me?"

He blushed, "He just..."

"Exactly," Mickey stated, when Ian failed to finish his sentence.

"Why does everyone think you're scary?" Ian asked, before he could stop himself.

Mickey's brow raised, "Do you not see my face? It scares people."

Ian shook his head, "It sounds like it's more than that."

Mickey sighed, "Well, I do get mad sometimes... I get into fights."

Ian held his gaze, "Why?"

"Because kids at school make fun of me. They call me Freak, Scarface, Frankenstein... anything they can think of."

He bit his lip, "That's so mean."

Mickey shrugged, "They stop after I hit them. But I think it scares other people. That's why I don't have many friends."

His eyes fell to his shoes, "Besides, no one wants to be friends with a freak anyway."

Ian swallowed, heartbroken.

Mickey couldn't help what had happened to his face, and everyone deserved a friend.

"You aren't a freak Mick," he stated firmly, "And you do have a friend... if you want one."

Mickey blinked, "You aren't afraid to be seen with me?"

Ian shook his head, "That's a stupid thing to be scared of."

The grin that broke across Mickey's face was beautiful, "Then let's go get Molly's leash."

Ian smiled, "Race you to the barn."

And they took off, unaware of the counselor, Michael, watching them, a grin on his face.


End file.
